


Sunday Morning

by Iben



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Female Steve Rogers, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 10:59:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13716258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iben/pseuds/Iben
Summary: It's early morning when I feel her stir. The minute rocking motion of the mattress when she moves pulls me out of sleep. The first light of dawn sifts through the rain spattered window and I turn around just in time to see her slip out through the bedroom door, naked, one hand holding her shirt at the small of her back to hide her ass. The sight brings a smile to my face.





	Sunday Morning

It's early morning when I feel her stir. The minute rocking motion of the mattress when she moves pulls me out of sleep. The first light of dawn sifts through the rain spattered window and I turn around just in time to see her slip out through the bedroom door, naked, one hand holding her shirt at the small of her back to hide her ass. The sight brings a smile to my face. 

I reach for my cellphone. It's really early. I have two messages, I reply to one of them, the other can wait. I hear the toilet flush and then the sound of running water from the tap. I put the phone away.

She is wearing the shirt when she comes back into the room. Her legs are long and smooth, seemingly endless. I know what it feels like when she wraps them around me. 

When she sees that I'm awake she tugs at the hem of the shirt, pulls it down to hide the triangle of hair at the apex of her thighs. I can't help but to smile. The whole blushing bride thing is not really my kink, but she is just so damn cute.

“Babe, I saw it all last night.” 

“Right.” She smiles, a little self-consciously, and lets go of the hem of the shirt. 

“Wanna get back into bed for a bit?”

“Okay.”

I don't look away when she unbuttons the shirt and shrugs it off. Hell, you could pay me money and I would still not look away. She is perfect. Every inch of her. I hold the cover up so that she can slip in under it. 

I prop my elbow on the mattress and my head in my hand. I place my other hand on her stomach, just below the breastbone. Her skin is warm against my palm. 

“I'm not used to this,” she says. 

“You're more the 'out of the door before sunrise' type?”

“No. I mean... all of this. I don't really know how to do this. Maybe I'm doing it wrong.” She gives me a hesitant look. “Did I do it wrong?” She meets my gaze with an almost apologetic look on her face. 

The penny drops then, and I hear what it is she's telling me. 

“Wait, that was your first time? Last night?”

She nods. 

For a second I don't know what to say. The possibility that she might be a virgin had honestly never even entered my mind. She is in her late twenties, or she was when she went into the ice, and so she still is. She is literally the perfect woman, how could she still be a virgin? 

Well, she's not, anymore.

“You should have told me,” I say. 

“I didn't know how to say it. I'm sorry. Was it bad? I mean, was I..?”

God, I'm forty-six years old. I haven't taken anyone's virginity since I was in my early twenties. I feel weirdly unprepared for this situation. Contrary to popular belief, I generally prefer women my own age.

“No, no... you were great, you were lovely.” I caress the side of her face. “I meant you should have told me, so that I could have... I don't know, taken things slower, been more gentle with you, asked you if you were okay...”

I feel like a bit of a dick now, to be honest. 

“I'm fine,” she says. “It was fine. I liked it.”

I look at her. Her bright blue eyes and red lips. We work together. We're teammates. Yesterday was a spontaneous thing. Narrowly escaping death can make you horny. We had a few drinks, to wind down, and one thing led to another. It doesn't have to be a big deal, but now, acting as if it's not would make me a jerk.

“Should I feel honored?” I say. 

I smile a little and she smiles back a little shyly.

“I don't know.” She looks away, like maybe she is embarrassed.

She's the greatest soldier in history, she could kick my ass in a heartbeat, but she doesn't look it now. 

I move my head to catch her eye. “I feel kind of honored,” I say.

She smiles. She puts her hand on top of mine. 

“I've made things weird now, haven't I?” she says. 

“Nah, don't worry.”

I lean closer and kiss her. I like how it feels when she puts a hand on my neck. I had a morning boner when I woke up and it hasn't gone away, because there is a hot chick in my bed. We kiss and I slide my hand down her hip, then up her side, until my thumb brushes the underside of her breast. She has great tits. If it's an effect of the super-soldier serum, or merely because she is twenty-nine and haven't had any kids, I don't know. But I place my hand on it and revel in the softness. 

“Do you feel up for an encore?” I ask, because yes, I am that selfish. Then again, maybe not, because she is caressing my neck and my shoulders, pressing closer.

She smiles, a little sheepishly. “Yeah.” 

I make sure to take my time. Watching her is more than great, it turns me on like crazy. She is wet and warm against my fingers. When she moves to reciprocate I gently push her back. 

“Wait your turn,” I say with a smile. 

In my experience there are fast women and slow women. Most women I've been with have been on the slow side. That's a good thing, then you know it's not faked. My ex-wife was fast, though. We had excellent three-minute fucks. 

Steph is somewhere in the middle. She screws up her eyes when she comes and she makes this noise that is half a gasp, half a squeak. It's cute. 

She catches her breath, then looks at me. 

“What about you?” she says. “What do you want?”

Her hand slides down my stomach to my dick. She looks almost surprised to find it hard. Hard and leaking pre-cum, I might add. 

“I wanna be inside you,” I say, because that's the truth. 

“Okay.”

She moves her hand up and down. Smiling. What a tease. 

I remember I told her to grip harder, last night. She touched me so gently, it didn't really do much. I put that down to her being afraid of hurting me, on account of her superhuman strength, but now I realize it might have been inexperience. 

I reach over her to the bedside table and fish out a rubber. I roll it on. 

“You wanna be on top?” I ask. I would have asked her that yesterday, if I had known. 

“I don't know. Do you want me to?”

“Whatever you want, babe. But if you're on top you can set the pace.”

“All right.” 

She gets up on her knees and I lie back. Anticipation makes my dick even harder, or maybe that's just what it feels like. 

There is a no-nonsense sense to the way she takes my hard-on in her hand and aims. I like it. I like even more that I'm going to be inside her in mere seconds. She meets my gaze when she sinks down. Fuck, that feels amazing. The warmth, the pressure. 

She moves hesitantly. God, the sight of her, sitting on top of me. I slide my hands up her thighs. Her legs and armpits are shaved, but no one seems to have told her about the modern custom of bikini waxes. I don't mind. I like the womanly look. 

“Am I doing this right?” she asks. 

“Do whatever feels good for you.”

It feels nice, but she hasn't quite got the hang of it, and I can tell she feels self-conscious.

“Do you want us to turn around?” I ask after a little while.

“Yeah. I don't know what I'm doing.”

I smile and sit up. 

She's not petite, and heavier than she looks, but she hooks her legs around me and I turn us around. 

Moving inside her, everything except the pleasure is chased from my mind. I hold back my orgasm for as long as I can, partly because I want it to last, and partly because I think maybe she is about to come again, judging by how she is gripping my shoulders tighter and tighter. 

And then she does come, and holy shit, I don't last another second. She has a strong grip. Everywhere. 

I catch my breath for a second. Then I pull out and flop down next to her. 

My mind is blissfully empty for a moment. 

“Was that good for you?” she asks then.

I wonder if she's picked up that phrase from a movie or something. I turn my head and look at her. 

“Yeah. Wasn't that obvious?” 

She smiles. Shit. When that inevitable kill-order comes, I'm going to be almost sad to receive it.


End file.
